


Coffee

by CorvidFightClub



Series: Life in the Crime Scene [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, They meet at a coffee shop, eventual dom mccree, eventual sub hanzo, mccree is good at his job, mccree susses hanzo out and hanzo doesn't even realize it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 07:02:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15858609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorvidFightClub/pseuds/CorvidFightClub
Summary: Curious, Hanzo meets McCree at a coffee shop. They talk.





	Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> So a thing to know about this series is it's meant to be a slow-build. Kink can be fun to explore, but it can also be healing if handled correctly, which is what I'm going for eventually. 
> 
> Anyway, here's Wonderwall.

Hanzo sat at a table outside the coffee shop, sipping his drink and watching one of the staff sweep the sidewalk free of debris. He’d come early, slipping from his window and avoiding his bodyguards on his way out of the castle walls. It had been some time since he’d given them the slip. Childish, but at times necessary if he wanted privacy. 

McCree turned the corner at seven forty-five. Hanzo astutely ignored him in favor of his phone until McCree was close enough to see in his peripheral vision.

“You’re early,” Hanzo observed.

McCree shrugged. “Don’t know this part of town as well. Mind if I go get some breakfast?”

“By all means,” Hanzo answered, tucking his phone away. 

McCree tipped his hat and walked into the coffee shop. He was dressed down in dark jeans, white shirt, and a plaid overshirt. It made him look less severe than all black, though he’d still stick out on the street like a sore thumb, being as tall as he was and blaringly American.

He wondered if McCree had noticed the lack of anyone outside at this hour. The sheer dearth of patrons in the shops on either side of this street or across the way. Hanzo had made his intentions plain. The shop owners had given gracious bows and shuttered their windows until noon in deference. 

McCree returned with coffee and a small salad. He sprawled in the seat across from Hanzo, long legs stretched out. “How’s the morning been for ya?” McCree asked.

“Acceptable,” Hanzo answered. “Yourself?”

“‘Bout the same.” McCree tucked into his salad. “So,” he said, “Heard you had some questions for me.”

“A curiosity, more like. How did my brother find you?”

McCree shrugged, smoothing down his beard. “Left my business cards a few places he might hang out in. I got a call from him on the work phone, so I gotta assume.”

“They gave you a work phone?”

“Nah, I’m an...independent contractor. Havin’ two phones is a safety measure.”

Hanzo raised a brow.

“Can never be too careful,” McCree answered. He sat back in his chair, pushing his empty salad bowl away. “I’m assuming you wanna know what I do?”

“That is some of my curiosity.”

McCree sucked the inside of his cheek, head tipped back, searching for phrasing. “Sometimes people have an itch to scratch, or a problem. Or both. I help ‘em figure out a way to scratch it. What they need through what they want.”

“Through whips and chains?”

“Not as many as you’d think,” McCree shrugged. “A little of that. I tend to take on people with more nuance.” He smirked at Hanzo. “You don’t just need a ‘distraction’, do you?”

Hanzo sighed sharply through his nose. “I have insomnia and my brother enjoys meddling.” 

“Have you tried yoga?”

Hanzo glared and McCree chuckled. “I’m teasin’.” McCree folded his hands in his lap. “So what d’you do for a living? No offense, but you definitely come off as the high-fluting type.”

“What gave you that impression?”

“The castle.” 

“Ah.” Hanzo shook a cigarette from the case and lit it. “I work for my family’s business.”

McCree raised an eyebrow. “You ever seen The Godfather?”

Hanzo exhaled a gust of smoke. “No.”

“Never mind. So, the family business. Mighty stressful, I take it? Under a lot of pressure?”

Easy guesses. “It is my honor.”

The American’s thoughtful look became shrewder than Hanzo thought possible. “What do you do for fun?” McCree asked.

The question caught Hanzo off-guard. He’d fallen into the flow of banter, remark and retort, like that of his business meetings. The Elders and family partners never inquired about his hobbies. Just as well, for they were few, consisting of sitting quietly, reading. Kendo? At times. Sparring? Necessity, though he was peerless.

McCree said with faint gentleness, “Don’t get much time to yourself, sounds like.”

“It is of no consequence,” Hanzo snapped. “My pleasure is serving my family.”

Again, that shrewd, considering look. Hanzo felt as though he’d given away some business secret and the consequences were dire. 

Rubbing his beard, McCree said, “No promises, but I might have an idea how to help you.”

“Oh? And what do you expect in return?” Hanzo asked. 

“Just my hourly rate,” McCree answered. He took out his phone and unlocked the screen. “I’ll send you a couple things to read. Send me any questions you have. My Wednesdays are free if you decide you wanna move forward.” McCree stood, pushed in his chair, and tipped his hat at Hanzo with a smile. “Mighty fine seein’ you again. Have a good day.”


End file.
